


I Never Knew

by ceaselesslyinlove



Series: After South Married North [3]
Category: North and South (UK TV), North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell, North and South - Elizabeth Gaskell | UK TV
Genre: F/M, Oral Sex, Porn with some plot, Smut, just some period drama smut to warm our hearts and minds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 10:10:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14850800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceaselesslyinlove/pseuds/ceaselesslyinlove
Summary: The morning after her wedding, John shows Margaret there is more than one way a man can pleasure his wife.





	I Never Knew

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for waiting for this next chapter! This chapter, while mostly being smut, is also meant to explore Margaret's thoughts about sex, her sexuality, and how marital duties might not be as bad as everyone has made it out to be.
> 
> If you're reading from the beginning of the collection, note that each part is not necessarily in chronological order. I should have mentioned that earlier, but I hope that clears up any question marks.

Margaret wakes up unexplainably happy. Perhaps in some ways, the situation is explainable…she’s married to a man she loves, who loves her back, even after everything they had both been through. But as she slowly stretches her limbs and peaks over at her sleeping husband, it hits her that she can’t even recall waking up feeling this happy. Maybe not since she was a younger girl.

Shifting up slowly in bed as to not wake John, she looks down at her body, curious as to how it appears to her now that she is no longer an untouched woman, but now a wife and a lover.

To the eye, it looks the same as ever, but looking over herself, every part of her seems to appear differently.  She imagines she know sees a little of what John saw when he looked at her. Her breasts, that she once only viewed as annoyances and for feeding children, were rather perfectly round and made her figure lusher and enticing.  Her stomach, a part of her body that she had never seriously cared about except to keep relatively small, was smooth, a little ticklish, and a perfect place for her husband to paint a canvas of kisses.  Her legs, once only meant to be covered and hidden from the world, were long and meant to wrap around her husband and bring him closer.

Blushing at such thoughts, her curiosity is mostly heightened by that strange soreness located right between her legs. She’s perplexed by how to define it.  She only hesitates a moment before she reaches down to cup her womanhood, confirming that the soreness is only coming from a deeper point from inside her body.  Although she’s intrigued to explore this area of her body that until now she has dutifully stayed away from, she manages to pull her hand away.

Turning her sights away from her body, Margaret focuses on the source of her happiness and curiosity. He is still sleeping like a child and she hopes he can manage to stay asleep a little while longer.  He told her the night before that the mill could wait in the morning, chuckling as she showed her appreciation with a kiss. Margaret smiles down at him, brushing his hair lovingly and wondering how she ever thought him not handsome, before deciding to explore about her new bedroom.

She first means to search for her nightgown, thrown somewhere by John as he had kissed her, but instead, finds his own. Hesitating for only a moment, she grabs his nightgown and throws it over her head, feeling a little reckless. 

The large desk on the other side of the room draws her curiosity first.  While John’s desk at the mill is full of papers and notes, this desk has a surprising number of books piled around.  Drawing near, she sees books of geography, business, and philosophy, but what truly warms her heart is the sight of her father’s copy of Plato, the only book flipped open on the desk.

Not wanting to become too emotional as a rush of memories come to her, she moves towards the window, pleased to see the sun peaking out behind the clouds. She doubts that it will be a sunny day, but she feels happy knowing the morning after her wedding offers a cheery beginning.

She hears a soft groan from behind her and turns to see John shift in bed, moving his hand towards her side of the bed.  She can’t help but smile when he frowns slightly upon finding empty sheets, and she smiles fully as he finally opens his eyes.

“Morning, husband,” she murmurs, feeling a rush of happiness as her mouth forms the word against her lips.

He seems stunned to see her and for a moment, she remembers John telling her how often he would dream of her, the dreams feeling so real he would not want to wake.  She manages to speak again, feeling overwhelmed by the power of his gaze.

“I trust you haven’t forgotten you married me yesterday?”

That seems to draw him away from his dream-like gaze, for he shyly smiles, and the sight has her weak.

“I would never forget such an event,” he says, but then seems to fully wake up as he slightly frowns. “Margaret, have you been up for some time? Are you in pain at all?”

She blushes, shaking her head.  Despite her remembrance of John telling her many times the night before that speaking of their intimacy should be completely normal between them, she fears it may take some time for her to feel that comfort.

“Not at all, just a little sore. Nothing to be concerned about,” she moves towards the desk, feeling overcome thinking of last night. It’s quickly becoming more difficult to ignore the ache between her legs. It’s as if her own body is ordering her to seek a solution to it.

She picks up Plato, turning to John as he shifts up to lean against the headboard.  He’s not helping her situation at all, exposing his chest to her in such a manner. She recalls just how much attention she had paid that part of his body that night and flushes.

“How many times have you now read this?” She manages to say teasingly, hoping it sounds normal.

She’s joking, but her ever logical husband scrunches his brow to think of his answer. “I believe I have only read it through three times. I tend to go back to the passages where you would passionately oppose me in my opinion on the text, I enjoy reliving some of those moments.”

“Such a hidden romantic,” she laughs lightly, putting the book down and looking back at him. He is serious, looking thoughtfully at her.

“You are wearing my nightgown,” he states, although his voice indicates he is curious as to the why.

“Yes, I have found that on my first day as a wife, I wish to be completely with my husband at all times, and if that means stealing his clothes, so be it.”

Although being sarcastic, she knows it is a truth in many ways. John seems to sense that too.

“I love you, Margaret.”

The playfulness in the room is quickly vanishing as a tension that Margaret is beginning to understand as desire fills the void.  She smiles, hoping to stay composed longer than she believes she could.

“And why do you?” Hoping playfulness can stall whatever flush is creeping up her neck and onto her face.

“Because you brought joy into my life when there was none, you challenged me and made me a better man, and above all, because you are the best person I have ever known.”

It’s the first time he has clearly stated his reasons. In all the excitement since their fateful meeting on the platform, reasons were never stated, only those three words which would never grow old to her. But hearing him declare the why behind his feelings stuns her.

“Oh,” she says softly.  Although his answer is said in his practical way, there’s a roughness in his voice, his eyes falling from hers to drift over her body. She can only stare back in a similar fashion as he finally meets her eyes again.  
  
“Come here,” he murmurs, his northern accent thicker and deeper than before and she feels the breath leave her body. The soreness between her legs has changed to a type of throbbing, and it seems to pull her to him.

She slowly crawls back onto the bed, only to gasp as John moves quickly to hover over her.

“I don’t believe I have given you a proper good morning greeting,” he says, looking down at her in wonder as he brushes her hair through his fingers.  She ponders how she survived an entire night with him this close to her.

“And what does a proper good morning greeting involve?” She asks breathlessly.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, he brings his lips right to her neck, as if he could not bear waiting a moment longer.

She shutters, as he begins to kiss his way down her neck, paying extra care to the places where she had shown more appreciation for the night before.  Cupping his cheek, she guides him back to her lips, kissing him and running her other hand through his hair, loving the low hum it elicits from him.

Slowly, he brings his hand to her breast, cupping her lightly through the nightgown as he draws away from her lips and smirks at her light pout.

“Margaret, can we…is it too soon to ask if we…?”

She says yes with another kiss, feeling the smile against her lips.

Much like before, he kisses her for what feels like hours. She wants to meet his passion as equally as she feels it, but she still cannot silence the loud thoughts inside her mind that order her to silently give whatever her husband wants.  How if she shows any pleasure or take any control, her husband will pull away in disgust.  Shifting slightly, she can feel the silky wetness of her need for him against her legs and debates whether or not she should still feel disgusted by it.

She is fighting these thoughts, when he moves his hand down to the hem of the nightgown and pulls away to look at her, his eyes darkened from need, a contemplative look on his face.

“Can I try something?”

She nods, clueless to what he is thinking, but trusting him completely.

He shifts his body down, lifting the nightgown up to her chest so he can kiss her lightly on the stomach. “I ought to let you wear my nightgowns more often…you wear my clothes much better than I do.”

She highly doubts that.

His hand comes her thigh, pushing it lightly to spread her legs. Despite knowing he has now seen every inch of her, she can’t help but still blush fiercely as he looks down at where he makes her his.

“One day you’ll accept that I adore every single part of you, Margaret,” John teases lightly, looking up at her with such adoration, she can hardly give a proper response.

“Well, what was it you wanted to try?” Her voice comes out breathier that she’d like, almost gasping as he spreads her legs a bit wider.  She’s gaining an idea of what is about to happen but can’t seem to accept that he will do it.

She brings herself to look down at him, only to watch in shock as her husband brings his entire face down to her sex.

“This,” he says huskily, and kisses her.

She gasps out, the feeling of his mouth against her soaked lower lips stirring a new sensation within her body.  It’s equally mortifying and pleasurable.

Struggling to without her cries as he explores this new assault on her, she manages to ask, “And what exactly is this?”

“I told you last night I planned to kiss every part of you, and I am now fulfilling that promise,” he says in such a business-like manner, she can’t help but let out a breathy laugh in response.  Suddenly, his kisses deepen, the feeling of his tongue now stroking her, and her laugh turns to a high-pitched whine.

She manages to thread her fingers deeply into his hair and her legs appear to have spread wider off their own accord to accommodate his head.  The throbbing between her legs is so intense, it’s bordering on painful, but John does not seem to notice, intent on kissing her like he’s feasting.

When her whimpers and whines are bordering on louder, more embarrassing cries, she attempts to speak.

“John…John, I don’t know how much more – ” She’s cut off with a sudden cry as John presses his tongue down on the bud at the top of her sex, sending an intense vibration throughout her entire being.  For the first time since he’s begun his mission, he looks up at her, eyes almost black but determined.  She’s trying to imagine what he sees…probably a half-crazed looking woman with hair so wild she could pass as a witch.

She keeps her eyes locked on his for only a second before, out of pure agony, she brings her foot up against his back and tries to shove him down again. Almost rolling her eyes at his answering smirk, she watches in painful anticipation as he brings his hand up to her sex.

The rush of her release only seconds later is exquisite.  With only a few careful strokes of his thumb against her, she’s closing her eyes, arching and gripping the sheets as she finally feels pleasure and relief course through her body. Her cry is much louder than she anticipates, followed by a series of gasps as her body rides out the waves. Any embarrassment she may feel disappears when she looks down to John, seeing the pride and desire manifested in his eyes as he touches become softer and softer against her.  She realizes he gave her release with his hand so that he could watch her, and she wonders if she could possible love and want him more.

Tiredly, she reaches out her hand to him. When he takes it, she brings him up to her and kisses him softly, tasting something against his lips that she shockingly realizes is her.

“I didn’t…I didn’t know it could be like that,” she whispers against his lips. He pulls back to look at her and perhaps it’s her love for him or how tired she feels, but she continues to speak, needing to say her thoughts aloud.

“I always thought this...what just happened would be a painful duty for me.  Even after we became engaged, I worried so much about it. I had hoped that, because we loved each other, it may be less painful. But I never imagined _this_.”

He only listens to her as she speaks, but as soon as she finishes, he brings his hand to brush against the scar hidden on her temple.

“I wish this to never be a duty for you, Margaret. Every time we have each other in this bed, I want you to wish it as much as I do.”

She smiles softly. “After what you just did, I imagine I will never think of this as a duty again.”

He replies with a kiss, and they spend the morning entwined together, taking turns between speaking and kissing each other like secret lovers. She comes to understand that happiness may not ever be a stranger to her again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I have not written smut in awhile, I hope that was at least decent! Especially with Margaret and John, the repressed attraction they have for each other goes beyond a year before they're even engaged, so I struggled to capture that at points.
> 
> Leave a kudos or comments if you wish! The next chapter coming along will be from John's point of view...since I have yet to touch upon that.


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